Edible(?) Poison
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: Astrid and Toothless make a list of what disgusting things they make Hiccup try; he discovers said list, and confronts them about his increasingly-getting-worse poor diet.


_**Soli Deo gloria**_

 **DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own HTTYD.  
**

 **It's been a long time since I've written a story for this fandom. _Far_ too long, if you ask me.**

Hiccup didn't realize after announcing to the entire village that he and his beautiful blonde bride were expecting a young heir to be their future chieftain, he'd suffer _this_ much.

In his twenty-five years, he could safely vouch for bouts of suffering varying across his childhood and forward. There was the classic 'mother eaten by dragons' (which turned out to be a false assumption—but it caused bouts of loneliness, need, and want of comfort just the same— AKA suffering), usual getting kicked around for being the runt of his litter of peers, cold winters that others mustered through with straight backs, puffed-up chests, and good wills, being bullied, bruised, disowned, nearly dead, losing his leg, and oh, his dad died at the hand of his mind-controlled best friend. Yeah, suffering stuck out as a stand-out in his life.

But a pregnant Astrid was a woman scorned at him for _everything_. Her temper became unleashed far too often for comfort; she constantly moaned with pain and threw up at the most common and inconvenient moments (onto his shoes, right before he had to run his uneven legs to a town meeting—with stinky animal boots); and more not allowed to be publicly known.

This could've been endured by Hiccup if he had a little support, but see, nobody felt sorry for him. Why should they? _He_ wasn't carrying around this little messy, demanding heir. This was said to him (a lot) by Astrid, Snotlout, Gobber, the twins, his _mother_ . . . and silently by Toothless.

That was it. He'd lost the help of Toothless. For the dragon followed his instincts and protected the expectant mother-to-be. He followed her around, trailing a few feet, always there to offer his shoulder-length head every time she needed something to lean against. She rode him to Hiccup when she couldn't think of where her husband was, for Toothless somehow knew _exactly_ where the chieftain'd waltzed off to. But not only this—in the cold evenings, as the young couple sat around the blazing hearth fire in their huge warm dwelling, Toothless curled up like a cat in front of it and took Astrid's side in _every_ argument. Hiccup felt shock and betrayal when Toothless gave him sassy looks and Astrid giggled behind her hand _every_ evening.

"How have I lost the support of my best friend to my wife?" Hiccup wanted to know. (The fact that his mother, Valka, and Astrid's own dragon, Stormfly, took Astrid's side more often than not, didn't matter. This was _Toothless_.)

No one cared how Hiccip suffered, though. No one showed any sympathy for him when Astrid said things like "You know what I could go for right now? Buttermilk-soaked fish guts!" at three in the morning. Or when she then proceeded to either make him make it with threatening eyebrows and cocked head rolls, or insisted on making it herself. _That_ was worse than letting him make it, because Astrid was the worst cook in the history of Berk. (Snotlout and many, many other Vikings could attest to the validity of this fact.)

This occurred far more often than what was permissible, but as Toothless, for some reason, enjoyed her delicacies, and Astrid relished them, he couldn't escape their inevitability. He cringed every time he heard Astrid make satisfied smacks and say, "You _have_ to try this, Hiccup."

"No, I'm good, actually. Not really hungry" was his predictable excuse.

"Hiccup, seriously. It's _sooooo_ good." And Toothless would nod enthusiastically, because _of course he would_.

"You know what? You're hungry. Eat it all. Don't let me scarf it all down by myself," Hiccup said self-deprecatingly. Oh, some lying flattery.

Astrid's face drained of patience and became stony serious. _"Hiccup. Try this."_

Hiccup had honestly hoped those excuses would work. Wrong thought.

Hiding his gagging was the hardest work at three in the morning. When he turned away after complimenting his wife's sucky cooking, his cheeks bulged and he ran outside as fast as his lanky legs could move. Thus, as he puked his guts out, he didn't see the mischievous smile Toothless gave Astrid as she stifled her giggling.

No wonder at the next town meeting Snotlout leaned in too close and whispered, "Dude, you look like you're about to throw up."

Hiccup couldn't recall the last good-tasting thing he'd eaten. No wonder he looked piqued.

Hiccup had grown tolerant of this strange, horrible behavior. How? By not complaining about it to his pregnant wife, thereby pretending it wasn't a problem. He had bigger things to worry about, like the ever-growing dragon population threatening to starve Berk if they didn't increase their food growth, or the traitorous storms in the seas Gothi predicted to be brewing and swirling closer and closer to Berk, just in time for harvest. Then there was always Drago scratching at the back of his mind, the unbelievable pressure he put on himself to be a great chieftain following his father's footsteps, and (ugh) his friends' love lives. (Those were _obviously_ high on the list of his priorities.)

Still, it was nice when he had something nice to eat. When you didn't have something good to eat when you got home from a long day to look forward to, your life is a little sad.

Hiccup, not wanting to rile up either his best friend or his wife, snapped his lips shut and said nothing.

Until one day, he uncovered a cruel trick.

One of his suggestions to his dad had been maybe he could pursue the life of a bread-making Viking. He found himself trying it out one morning. Ground grain was everywhere, but with no Astrid discovering what he was secretly doing.

" _That_ was tougher than it looks," Hiccup said, once done. Leaving lumps of lumpy bread dough under animal skins to rise, he discovered a parchment taped to the back of the grain barrel when he went to put the lid back. He knelt next to it and leaning against the barrel, peeled off the parchment and read the scraggly Norse.

"Why does Astrid have thirty-seven marks and Toothless sixteen?" Hiccup wondered aloud in a whisper. He wrinkled his eyebrows and read further. Under the 'Astrid' heading, he read 'Stewed squirrel entrails', 'pickled peppered gooseberries', 'honeyed house flies', and at the very top 'Yaknog'. He read on in horror to see Toothless's list included 'Regurgitated deep-sea kelp', 'raw bat wing', 'snails with crushed shells' and 'rotten oranges'. At the top 'regurgitated pond fish'.

"They have _seriously_ been keeping a list of all the gross stuff they've been feeding me? Is this a _competition_? Now that's just mean," Hiccup sighed.

Leaving the back door open, Hiccup ran as fast as he could limp to the Great Hall. He found on its front porch Astrid securing a riding harness on Stormfly. Next to her Toothless watched her like a protective guardian, in case she needed an impromptu handrail.

"Hey, Hiccup. This harness you made for making my riding smoother on me looks good," Astrid said cheerfully.

" _What_ is this?" Hiccup said, stomping up the stairs jiltedly.

Astrid swung her leg off of Stormfly. "What's what?" she asked, sounding serious.

Hiccup stood alongside her and held up the parchment. It unspiraled from its rolled-up scroll state. "Are you and Toothless keeping tabs on who's getting a worse reaction from the bad food you guys feed me?" He didn't sound so tolerant _now_.

Toothless stifled a smile. It didn't go unnoticed by a peeved Hiccup. "Not helping, buddy," he said in a low voice.

"Oh, you found that." Astrid sounded found-out, and like she too tried stifling a smile.

Hiccup could only imagine the nights she and Toothless snuck into the kitchen and giggled as she wrote down who forced Hiccup to force down what. "How long has this been going on?" Hiccup asked. She pretty much admitted it, so somehow his anger faded and he only sounded defeated. He _was_ defeated. What was he supposed to do with these two?

"A few years. Maybe." Astrid shrugged, her hands up. "It's just gotten worse in the past few weeks."

"Believe me, I've noticed. _Please_ tell me you're not voluntarily making horrible food just to get more marks than Toothless on this list." The guilty face and avoiding eyes of Astrid told him 'yes'. _"Astrid._ Are you two _trying_ to poison me?!"

"Okay, I'm sorry. We got a little out of hand." Astrid shrugged apologetically and Toothless nodded in agreement. "We just wanted to have a little fun."

"At my expense?" Hiccup pointed out.

"I know. _We_ know. And we'll stop. We're sorry, Hiccup." Astrid gave him a warm hug. Hiccup looked past her, trying to keep annoyed. But Toothless's look of 'Forgive me and her' made him sigh and melt, like the sucker he was. He hugged Astrid back, closing his eyes and actually _hugging_ her.

"Thank you, Hiccup," Astrid said, smiling.

"Does this mean I'll get to eat _real_ food now?" Hiccup wondered.

"Of course. Tonight's fish stew."

With that reassurance, Hiccup walked a little jiltedly down the stairs, feeling a burden leave his shoulders. However, he turned back halfway and shouted through cupped hands, "If it means anything, the Yaknog was the _worst_ thing on that entire list."

Once he was out of earshot, Astrid turned to Toothless, and him to her. "So, we're done. But I won, right?" she asked.

Toothless relented, vibrated his lips, and nodded, making Astrid smile. Folding her arms, she smirked and watched Hiccup disappear into the village. "I _do_ love winning."

 **Astrid can be a little mean-hearted sometimes, but it makes for great humor. Poor Hiccup. XD**

 **Thanks for reading! Review?  
**


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